Words of the Mind
by JD11
Summary: When Rose’s son begins having strange dreams, it becomes uncertain whether or not he’s speaking to his father or simply loosing it. 13th 'Incompatible' Series
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: _Hello everyone! Just want to apologize for how long this took to get up (I just started my first started my first year of University and everything's been a bit hectic.) Besides, I had a hell of a time coming up with a title.

Anyway, on with the show. Here's the story you've all been waiting for: the reunion story. Enjoy!

_Timeline:_Takes place about two years after the last chapter in 'The Christmas Drabbles'. Rose has been in the alternate reality for eight years.

/-/-

**Words of the Mind**

It's exactly how he remembered it. Bigger even. More alive.

The three campuses are staring right at him, waiting for him to march in and learn. Modern buildings- state of the art from the inside- are hanging in the background. His mum thinks they look cute. He just can't wait to see what the computer mainframe can do.

And the labs! He just barely got to glimpse them and he already knows he can finally put dozens of theories into practice.

"You're sure this is what you want to do?" She's so concerned for him, his mum. He just smiles at her. He might be seven, but he knows a good thing when he sees it. And that's what this place is: his dream school. What more could he ask for? "You know that your grandfather is more than happy to keep hiring tutors until you're a little bit older."

She's only reminded him of that three hundred thousand times, fifty thousand of those during the zeppelin flight here. "Mum, we talked about this. I don't like those tutors; they're boring. Besides these kids are just like me."

"Jon, they're not just like you." There's that voice again. That tired, harassed voice that tells him she doesn't really want to talk about how different he really is. It's hard for her to talk about it, he knows that, but at the same time he wants it to be as normal for everyone else as it is for him.

"Okay, okay. So they're smart just like me."

"Which is great. But you have to be-"

"You have to be careful." He's heard that one before. "I know, Mum."

"I know you know that, Jon, but I also know you and I know what happens when you get excited and start rambling. Any number of things can come out."

"I won't tell anyone about my father or my two hearts," he's done that before and all it's ever gotten him is laughed at, "-or about time travel and the TARDIS," which he has spoken about in detail on a purely scientific note but no one he's met has ever been able to follow him. "If I get hurt, I've got your mobile number, granddad's mobile number, and the number for Torchwood. I'm supposed to call them first. I know."

"I know. I just worry."

"I'm ready."

"I'm not."

He laughs a little at her, knowing that she's not ready to let him leave her so soon, but he's ready. He's long past ready to get out and live life on his own. Ready to talk with people who can keep up with him.

His door's opened and he's bounding up the steps to the Alfred Sanford Union before Rose can even realize that he's gone. She gets out slower, taking her time to watch as Jon stares up at this glorious piece of architecture that will now become his home for the next few months.

"Come on!" He's beaming up at his mum, excitement keeping the nerves he should be feeling at bay, as he grabs her hand. "Let's go find my room."

/-/-

"Hello."

It's a possibly Scottish voice that startles Jon into turning around. He'd seen that the other side of the room was already decorated and organized and all it was missing was a person to occupy it. He'd been waiting, nervously, to meet this person and here he is.

The boy's older than he is. Twelve or thirteen. He's much taller, hitting a growth spurt that's making his limbs thin and gangly. But at least his lanky body matches his thin face. Even his short cropped blonde hair makes his eyes stand out and his cheeks look higher. One might even say he looks fit, for a pre-teen anyway.

"Hey." It's probably the most awkward greeting Jon's ever been a part of so he does the only thing he can think of, which is to drop the book in his hand onto his bed and extend his right hand. "I'm Jon Tyler."

There's a bit of hesitation as the boy takes his hand, but his shake is firm. "David McDonald. Pleasure." That's all he says before walking around Jon and collapsing onto his bed on the right side of the room. Jon watches him lose interest in him; his shoulders slump and his turns back to the pile of things on his bed. "How old are you?"

David's watching him suddenly, hands under his head and legs crossed. He's definitely Scottish.

"Just turned seven."

"Seven, really? Damn." He springs up, his legs dangling off the high bed, before he says, "Thirteen, meself."

He moves a lot, that's his first impression of his newest roommate. David's pacing behind him, moving from his desk to his closet to his bed back to his desk. Even as he moves to occupy his feet, he's talking. "So far this place looks like it's going to be a good school. I've been to a bunch- all boring. You know what I mean?"

"Not really." He turns. David's got something in his hands- a paperweight model of something- and he's rolling it from hand to hand.

"This your first school?"

"Yeah. My granddad got me a bunch of tutors before."

"Yeah. Tried that too. Tutors, public schools, high class schools for gifted kids. None of them were fast enough or challenging enough."

"Oh, yeah, I noticed that with my tutors. I just did a lot of extra reading to keep occupied."

"Hmm." David tosses the paperweight onto his bed. "Tyler, you said?"

"Yeah." He shrugs, looking over at David. He's pretty sure already that this is the tone he's either going to learn to love or hate. It's the tone that says I've been working on something even as I've been talking to you.

"Like, the Tylers? Pete Tyler, the Head of Torchwood?"

His granddad's a great guy but nothing to get worked up over. "Yeah, that's my granddad."

"You're Rose Tyler's son? Geez, your family's famous." Yeah, here it comes. He knows it well; been on the receiving end of some tabloid fan one too many times. "So, does that mean you're loaded?"

David's leaning against his dresser now, arms crossed and smirk wide. Jon doesn't bother answering him.

"All right, whatever… So what are you studying here?"

"Physics and Calculus. You?"

"Chemistry. Like Physics but Maths isn't my strongest subject."

He laughs at that. "So what does that mean? You get As instead of A pluses."

David laughs back. He knows he's right, that no one comes to this school with a subject they're bad at. "Yeah something like that."

David's looking at his dresser now, twisting around to be able to pick up one of the picture frames Jon just set up there. "That your dad?"

He knows it is without having to look at the picture, but he does anyway. He stands a little straighter and gets up on his tiptoes to see over the wooden frame. "Yeah."

"Never hear about him, though. Tylers are famous and he's-"

He's not supposed to talk about him and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want David knowing anything about this man that he loves so much and yet has never met. He doesn't want to let anyone know that there's this big gaping hole that just can't be plugged by anything but his father.

"Sorry. Anyway." David's moving again, heading for the door this time even as he turns around to look at Jon. "I was thinking about getting something to eat. You wanna come?"

He forces a smile to his face and turns to see David. "Yeah, sure."

"Do you know where the canteen is?"

"Yeah. Memorized the map. Didn't you?"

"Haven't gotten around to it yet."

/-/-

Overall, it wasn't a bad first day. The school was nice, which he knew before he got there. His room could do with a bit more light but otherwise was fine. The bed was nice, bouncy and comfortable. His roommate- well, he's talkative and moves a lot… which means they're pretty much just like each other.

Yeah, Jon liked David. He was nice and really smart- not that he would be there if he wasn't.

It's the middle of the night and for the first time all day Jon's missing home. He misses having a room that he can spend all night tinkering in or reading with his light on. He's bored but he doesn't really think it's fair to disturb David's necessary sleeping patterns. At least not on the first night.

Which means he'll have to think through his latest theorems. It won't be hard to remember what he's come up with. Well, there is that one about his theory of temporal isolation that's been giving him some trouble-

But then he feels something. Something he had never noticed before. A tickling, maybe is the right word. It's like someone got into his head and is assaulting his brain with a feather. He tries to scratch it away or massage it away or something but nothing works. And then-

"Oh god!"

Suddenly his brain feels like it's on fire. It's like an unused muscle that has been battered and strained and it hurts more than he's even experienced before.

"Jon! Jon, wake up! What's wrong? Wake up!"

"What- oh. What was that?"

"I dunno. You just started moaning and clutching your head. You all right?"

"No!" It hurt. That's all he knows. Pain burns down his back.

"I'm gonna go get the nurse."

"No, don't!" No, he can't. He can't bring himself to remember why it's so important at that moment, but he knows it is and that's why his hand shoots out and grabs David's hand. "No, I'm fine."

"Let go!"

"I'm fine. Go back to bed."

"Whatever. Be sick, I don't care. Just don't puke in the room."

All his enzymes and hormones are stable. His hearts are beating; circulation is just fine. Lungs are working; plenty of oxygen. No foreign compounds that he can detect. It's not an allergic reaction.

What was that?

/-/-


	2. Chapter 2

Well it's going to have to do. It's just a night out with the girls, they don't really care if she looks sexy at the bar.

But she actually is sexy- if she's honest with herself. Because, if she's honest, she still looks twenty. Not a wrinkle nor a grey hair to mark her progression through depression, a child, and her job.

She tries not to notice it and for the most part she succeeds. The subtle make-up she wears now is a far cry from what she wore in her youth and makes her feel more her age. She's not much of a jeans and T-shirt girl anymore, but she does enjoy wearing them once in a while.

And those are the days that people remind her how young she looks. Those are the days she takes Jon out to the chippy or the park or something and people mistake him for her brother or nephew.

She looks twenty and not old enough to have a seven year old son. It's true. If she steps out of the shower, naked and hair soaking wet around her shoulders, she looks exactly same as she did before she came here, exactly the same as when the Doctor left her.

She hates it, because it scares her and unnerves her and without the Doctor there to explain it she feels lost. And yet, in some corner of her mind, she loves it, because she looks young and sexy and if she wants to, she can pretend that she's still with the Doctor.

God, does she miss him. Outwardly she's so skilled at putting on the façade that she's moved on, that she's focused on Jon and her job and that she doesn't think about him anymore. She lets the world think that she doesn't long for him anymore.

But she does.

Some nights, when the day was hard and long, she cries for him. She cuddles up against her pillow and wishes as hard as she can that he's there.

She's not broken anymore. She was in her first few years there, but she's grown to accept it, and even like it. She likes having her family and Mickey and she loves Jon more than she could ever imagine. But she'd give it all up, with the exception of Jon, to be back with the Doctor.

"Rose! You ready?"

Jody's voice- one of her friends she's going out with- startles her awake and quickly she glances herself over and nods her tentative approval. Another long night of batting away men, forcing a smile, and coming back to an empty home.

Nah, her life hardly sounds depressing.

/-/-

Two point charges are fixed on the y-axis. A charge of +q is placed at y +a…

This would be a lot easier if his head weren't throbbing. Just for hour- if it would stop for just that long, he'd be fine.

No, not even an hour. Twenty minutes, long enough to finish this problem. That would be great.

"You okay?"

"What?"

"You're rubbing your head again. Another headache?"

"No, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Yeah. Okay."

Determine the magnitude and direction of the electrical field at the point of origin.

He can't focus. The throbbing is behind his eyes now, making them sore and achy.

David's looking at him. He can see it out of the corner of his eye. David always does that- peering at him, pestering him to make sure he's all right. Well he is and David's not his mum. He can handle himself. He's fine- okay, so he's not fine, he's had the same constant headache for all three weeks he's been at school, but he still doesn't need David breathing down his neck.

So yeah… back to the problem.

Determine the magnitude and direction of- What was that?

"What are you looking for?"

He shakes his head, rubbing away the sight from his eyes. "Just thought I saw someone come into the courtyard."

"No, just us, mate."

"Yeah, okay."

Where was he? Right. Determine the magnitude and direction of the electrical field-

There it is again! No, it's just a shadow. Just his tired eyes seeing things.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." He closes his books with a thud and stands, tucking them under his arm. "Actually, I think I'm just going to go up to our room and rest. I can't focus."

"All right. See you later then."

"Yeah. Later."

/-/-

He knows the answer. This should be easy; it's review. But he can't think and can't focus. He can't do this.

It would be easier if someone wasn't constantly talking behind him. He can't help the slight twitch his head makes every time the muttering starts back up. The voice is too quiet to identify; he wishes he could just to yell at them to stop. It's a test!

Not to mention the pounding headache erupting just behind his eyes. He tries to hide it from David, but he's right- the migraines just keep coming back.

And the whispering! Who taught this kid to take a test?

Back to work. Only thirty minutes left.

Okay, a ball with mass M is thrown vertically with a velocity of-

Why isn't Professor Chapman yelling at the kid. He's getting louder. Jon just barely controls the urge to turn and look for the talker. He grips his pen tighter and buries his fingers deeper into his hair and forces his eyes to stay on his paper.

Vertically with a velocity-

Can't they be quiet? Jon spins around, eyes darting around the back of the room. No heads are up. No lips are moving.

"Mr. Tyler?" Professor Chapman is staring at him when he turns back around in his chair. "I should think that I need to remind you of the definition of a test."

"No, Professor. Didn't you hear someone talking?"

"Talking? I didn't hear anything."

"You didn't hear it? Someone's been talking through the entire test."

He can see out of the corner of his eyes that the other kids are glancing at each other and shrugging. Professor Chapman glances around, but he seems equally as unconvinced.

"I didn't hear anything. Quiet down. Get back to work."

It's quiet for just a moment as Jon rubs his temple, trying to calm the throbbing behind his eye.

Air resistance shown by F -kv, where k is-

Jon's pen stills and his neck straightens. Professor Chapman's eyes are down, eyes and pen running over homework papers. Jon looks to his sides but everyone is working. No one is bothered by the noise- actually, no one is making the noise.

"Mr. Tyler?" Professor Chapman is staring at him again; he's barely half way through the second question; his brain is throbbing and the voice is getting steadily louder in the otherwise silent room.

"I'm not really feeling well. Can I go lay down?"

/-/-


	3. Chapter 3

They're his feet pounding against the concrete and his legs lunging their full length and his hearts hammering in his ears and his lungs forcing air to fill them. But it's not his body. It's out of proportion. Too tall, too different.

And he knows, immediately, whose it is.

He's dreaming again. Dreaming through his father's eyes.

He's running. Running faster than he's even run before and with more determination than he's ever possessed.

He glances over his shoulder. He can't see them anymore. He doesn't even know who they are, and yet he does. Disgusting looking aliens. Big and red and scaly and ugly. And they're the ones chasing him. Him and the red-headed woman next to him.

He just keeps running, having no idea where the legs that aren't his are taking him. Somewhere down this street and through this alleyway and through some poor person's shop.

Then he sees it. Just a blue blob at the far end of the street. But he sees it. He knows it's just a little farther-

"Wha-?"

"You okay?"

He's in his room, laying in his bed with his Star Trek duvet hanging half off the bed and his pillow nowhere to be seen. Light is streaming through the half covered window and the open door. His mother is towering over him, her hand on his shoulder.

He remembers now. It's almost Christmas. He's home on holiday. He was sitting in his bed reading about particle physics when suddenly he was somewhere else-

"They must be working you to death at that school. You slept through the night."

"Did I really?" He yawns, rubbing his hair out of his eyes. His mum's pushing the curtains open, suddenly exposing his room to the dawning rays of sunlight. "What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Wow."

"I know. I don't think I've ever had to wake you up before."

He laughs a little as he follows her down the hall to the kitchen.

"Do you want me to make you something?"

"No, thanks. Just going to have cereal."

"Kay."

He scratches his ear absently as he drags one of the counter chairs over to the cupboards. He steps up, opens the door, grabs a bowl. He hears it just as the bowl clatters against the counter. He ignores it, it's just background noise that he expects to hear now and then.

It's just unintelligible muttering, the norm, nothing interesting to listen to.

He pushes the chair over, opens another door, grabs the first container he sees. It gets louder with ever splash of cereal against his bowl.

He can almost make out some of the words if he listens, something to do with Maths. Chemistry, maybe.

He finds a spoon and pours more milk than he needs, splashing quite a bit over the side when he tries to carry it over to the table.

"… temporal… stabilize… reverse thrust…"

He stares straight forward, head tipped just off to the side, just listening, lost to the world around him.

"Jon? You okay?"

"Hmm?"

"Staring into space for a minute."

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking." He plops down into the chair next to him and digs his spoon into the milk sodden fruit loops, hoping she won't think about it any further.

The whispering's gone. He knew it would- it always stops abruptly once it gets just loud enough to make out. But he also knows that the headache's coming. It always does. He starts rubbing his temple, a preparatory action to the pain he knows is coming.

"Your head hurt?"

He can't lie to her- never had been able to convince her of a lie- so he just shrugs, stares into his fruit loops and shoves another spoonful into his mouth.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Not like I can take aspirin anyway."

He can tell she's not impressed so he just keeps eating, his head throbbing just a bit more with every bite he takes.

/-/-

There's a man. A tall man wearing a brown suit. No face- just the back of his head and disheveled hair.

He's shrugging off his jacket, shaking his arms to get the sleeves to come off and the material to fall to the floor. He's pulling at his tie, choosing suddenly to leave it on and kick off his shoes instead.

He pads barefoot around his bedroom floor, moving around the bed and over to another door on the far wall.

The tiled floor is cooler than expected but doesn't make him flinch. He runs the sink, collecting warm water in the basin. As he waits, he looks up to catch his reflection in the mirror-

It's not his face. They're not his hands, he suddenly realizes. They're the man's. He's seeing through this man's eyes. This-

No-

No, it's just a dream. Just a coincidence, he wants to believe. It was his father's image in the mirror. He can think of so many explanations. Psychological things. Desire to be him or to see him or something along those lines. It could just be because he glanced at his father's picture before he fell asleep.

It could be anything, so why is it bothering him so much?

The side garden of their house slopes down, creating a ridge that overlooks a grove of cherry trees. He likes the view, mostly. It's calming and absolutely gorgeous at night with the stars breaking through the leaves.

He goes there to think. Or not to think. Whichever he needs early that morning.

This morning he needs to think. He can just feel it- all these little pieces just begging for a drop of glue to connect them.

"Think! Weird dreams- this isn't the first one. Actually this one's pretty normal. Just a man looking in the mirror. My father looking in the mirror. All the others were about aliens and such. Aliens and monsters and spaceships. Completely different. Then again, dad is an alien, so I guess both types of dreams are normal.

"No, he's not alien. Time Lord. We're Time Lords…

"So what does that have to do with anything? Are they known to go crazy and hear voices in the middle of physics tests?

"No. No, probably not. Time Lord… Time Lord… Time Lords are telepathic. Mum said so. Said he could get into people's minds. Said he also told her once that he knew all the Time Lords were gone because he couldn't feel them… Which means I can sense other Time Lords telepathically- not that there are any left to sense… unless telepathy extends through alternate universes. Which I doubt…

"So… headaches, a voice which is potentially completely in my head… So, what? Early mental illness? Possibly. Development of telepathy? You'd think a Time Lord would be born with it. Could be because I'm a hybrid. Or could be because I've never had a telepath around to help me…

"Yeah, telepathy's a better choice than insanity. So what's going on? And, if it is telepathy, the how does it work? And, if it's telepathy, who's voice is it I keep hearing?"

He grows quiet for a moment, elbows on his knees and cheeks in his hands, as he stares out at the sky.

Time Lords. Telepathy. Headaches.

"Maybe I am going insane."

/-/-


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: _Oh my god! I'm so sorry this took forever! I, em… sort of forgot all about it… So you get two chapters! See, it worked out.

Enjoy!

/-/-

He feels pretty much like an idiot.

He made several attempts to gather information about telepathy. Anything to do with telepathy: how it works, how it develops, how to increase it or manipulate it or work it. All he found was a bunch of nutters on the internet. Nothing to be taken seriously.

So he decided to go for it on his own. It couldn't be that hard. Must be second nature or something.

Or so he thought. He's been sitting there for nearly two hours now and he still doesn't have an idea what he ought to do. He's just sitting there, legs crossed Indian style, hands on his knees, and eyes closed. It's just black. Just an empty mind in a silent room.

"This is mad!"

Sitting around in his room isn't going to get him anywhere. There's nothing more to learn about it. Nothing more to do.

But he can't stop thinking about it. Can't help but let his mind wander as he does his Maths homework. Can't help but think about trying again as he considers reading his literature assignment.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Just some homework."

"What book's that?"

"Tale of Two Cities."

"Ah, Charles Dickens. Did I ever tell you about the time your father and I met him?"

"Only three thousand times."

"Oi!"

"S'okay. I like that story."

"Yeah, well I'll have to tell it to you again. Some other time though. I'm off to bed. You all right?"

"Yep."

"Don't work too hard. It's a holiday, after all."

"I won't."

He waits until his mother shuts the door behind her before chucking the book off to the side.

He's got to try. Got to figure this telepathy thing out- if that's even what it is.

Same position, he takes his time to get comfortable. Deep breath.

Then he notices it. That tickle that came before the first headache. He reaches for it this time, instead of fighting it. He reaches, imagines that the sensation is growing and consuming him. The tickle's whispering, brushing just at the back of his mind, getting louder and louder the more he reaches, the more he lets it take over. Pain is coming with the whisper.

He doesn't care. He keeps pushing. Just a little farther. A little faster, louder. He can do this. He can make this work. Because it's working already. He just needs to keep pushing.

He can see it, a foggy vision through eyes that aren't his. A floor, a pale blue carpeted floor. Discarded jeans in the corner. The leg of a wooden chair- probably a desk chair- just out of sight.

He can feel his breath catching in his chest and his stomach twisting. There's pain and sorrow in his heart- so much of it that he thinks he just might cry for these foreign emotions.

And then there's something so foreign he can't be sure if it's real or imagined in this dreamlike state. His face feels tight and his lips are drawn and stomach drops and twists and his chest burns. Anger is the best word he has for it, but it doesn't entirely describe it.

"What are you doing?!" He hears the voice, feels his mouth moving, but they aren't his words.

The feel starts to fade and he feels like an outsider in this dream. It's fading. It's hard to hear the woman's voice, but it's there.

"Sorry, I- I was just looking for you. I… Is this her room?"

"Yeah."

"Do you come in here a lot?"

"No."

The pale blue floor starts to fade into his wooden one; the fluffy pink towel transforms into his orange jumper.

He's so close to hearing his father again. Just a little more…

Donna's voice becomes clearer as she says, "You know… you never have said what happened to her. Just that you lost her." It's from the far corner of the room that he sees Donna make her slow, hesitant way into the room. He can hear the worry and nerves shaking her voice. "Maybe talking-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

It's from his father's place on the bed that he sees her sink down onto the bed next to him. He doesn't look up from his hands, only glances at her thighs out of the corner of his eye. "Okay… You could tell me about her."

It's an incredibly odd feeling to hear as someone else's thoughts tumble through their mind. Old memories, old thoughts, angry words to get ride of Donna and kind ways of talking to her. He feels a desire to speak, to remember, but a hesitation to open his mouth.

"I was chasing down the Nestene Consciousness," he finally says, "When I met her. It's an alien who can control plastic."

"Right."

"She was nineteen. So young… messy, dyed blonde hair, stereotypical London estate girl who lived for telly, work, and chips. But she was brilliant- the potential was there. She turned me down the first time I asked her, but I went back and she said yes. I've never done that before… gone back for someone. There was just something about her."

There are so many more comments on the tip of his tongue, but they still and he goes quiet for a while before he finds a way to sum all of his thoughts up. "Every moment with her- every adventure and thrill and danger- was wonderful. We gallivanted through the universe like nothing could stop us. She promised me forever and I hated myself for wishing that she could keep that promise."

Her voice is so soft, he almost doesn't hear it. "Were you two…? Was she-"

"We were lovers, but only near the end."

"What happened?"

"The Daleks. The Army of Ghosts. The Void. A lot of things."

He recognizes the words in only the most abstract of senses.

Donna stays silent and in that same abstract way he knows that she doesn't understand.

"The Daleks are one of the worst alien species that exists- well, existed, I hope. They… There was a war. A Time War. A war that has no boundaries, no rules… and no end." The way his head snaps up and his eyes find hers so suddenly it startles even him and forces him to feel the power in his eyes, a burning raw power that frightens him. "I ended it."

"But-"

"I destroyed them. Their entire fleet… but I burned my planet with them. I destroyed everything to stop the war."

"You had to."

"I know. Doesn't change anything."

"The Daleks were your enemy?"

"Yeah. Some of them survived by living in the Void, a place between universes where there literally is nothing. They came back into this reality when Cybermen from another world began poking holes in the fabric of reality- pushing through into this universe from their own parallel one."

"Cybermen?"

"A race invented by a man too afraid to die. Took a human brain and preserved it in a body of metal. A cold, unfeeling race. Their plan was to take over this Earth because they couldn't have the one they started out in. The Daleks just came along for the ride."

He pauses and looks at her, "You've heard of Canary Wharf?"

"Vaguely. Mostly from you, remember?"

"That was them. They killed hundreds battling between each other and their desire to conquer the Earth."

"So what happened? How did you stop them?"

"Everything that goes through the Void picks up Void stuff- background radiation. I have some of it surrounding me. The Daleks and Cybermen lived in the Void, they were soaked with it."

"And Rose had it on her?"

"Yeah."

"So…" she shakes her head and he knows that she's fighting to understand his vague words. "What does that mean?"

"To get rid of them, I opened the Void to attract all the Void stuff, pulling in the Daleks and the Cybermen."

"Along with you and Rose?"

His throat closes on him and suddenly he can't breath. "Her lever slipped…" he manages to say, "And then she lost her grip… she got pulled in but her father- the one from the other reality- came through and grabbed her, saved her, brought her to his reality to protect her. She's there, stuck when the Void closed."

"You can't open it back up?"

"Not without risking both our universes."

"That'd be a no, then."

"She's… She'll be happy there, I hope. She can have a life and her family. It's better."

"No, it's not. You're miserable, especially when you think about her. You love her, it's etched into your face." Her fingers brush away his hair and he loves and hates the way her warm fingers feel against his lonely skin. "I wish there was some way…"

"Me too." He's back in the corner of the room abruptly and the whiplash almost makes him miss the Doctor standing and taking three large strides towards the door as he says, "But there's not. Come on. It's time for us to be off."

/-/-


	5. Chapter 5

"Bralix five… Oh, maybe Kin'tax. I should really work on the Vortex stabilizers, getting a bit bumpy on re-entry into normal space. Ooh! Larnix three. That's it! Not sure that I like this shirt, bit scratchy around the neck-"

"Oh, shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"Mum? Oh, sorry, I just…" His head's throbbing and the voice is nattering away and he can't come up with anything to say to excuse him. He lets his words trail off instead and looks away.

He can hear his mum growing closer and so he pushes his fingers further into his hair, hoping to block the sight of his face from her to keep her from seeing just how tired and sick he is.

"Are you feeling okay?" Of course she would notice. And of course she would try batting his hand away to feel his forehead.

"I'm fine, mum." He tries to pull away from her.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? Your head keeps bothering you and you've been sleeping a lot. Do you want to go see Dr. Jones?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Oh, I'm supposed to think of somewhere to get out to dinner tonight. Gren'ok has great food."

He can feel his mum's eyes staring at the back of his head as he reaches up on his tip toes to get the cereal box from the cupboard above his head. He's not even sure what he's grabbed but he doesn't really care. He just keeps rubbing behind his ear.

"Oh, I love Neclarin's h'tac- well, Donna not so much. Ooh! Lipaxia four- no, no, not there."

Bowl, glass, cereal, milk, juice, spoon.

"Barcelona! Eh, definitely not. I still haven't fixed the toaster. Should really probably do that soon."

He doesn't notice until he sits down and starts shoveling food into his mouth that his mum has been talking to him. He can see that her lips are moving and that her eyes are shifting between him, her food, and the papers next to her plate, but he can't hear the words. It's like the voice has turned off his ears, forcing him to see one world and listen to another.

"Well, there's always twenty-eighth century Earth. Good food, good clothes. It'll keep Donna busy for a while. Could work on, em, what was I supposed to work on today?"

He drains the milk from the bottom of his bowl just as his mum looks up at him, that look of 'well, what do you think?' written over her face and he has no idea what to say to her. He's not even sure he really trusts himself to speak, not without being able to hear his own words.

So he shrugs and stands quickly, rushing his bowl over to the sink and drinking the last of his juice before placing it in there as well.

"Oh, that's right, the stabilizers."

He tries to shake the voice from his head and rubs harder at the back of his neck. His mum's watching him, so he forces the corners of his lips to curve slightly and says, "I'm goin' to my room."

He's pretty sure he hears a response from her, but he has no idea what it is. He just keeps walking, his pace growing faster the higher he climbs up the stairs.

/-/-

He feels it bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It's pressing on his spine and constricting his lungs and tightening his face. He can feel the fire flaring in his eyes and the ice settling over his face.

It's almost painful, this feeling, and yet he has absolutely no idea what it is. This foreign, painful, angry emotion. An experience he's never had.

There's some abstract way that he understands everything his father's going through and right now it lets him understand the emotion, lets him embrace it and cling to it. Lets him know that his father is very familiar with this feeling.

It's almost comforting, in that abstract way, something to cling to and give him the motivation to do what he needs to do. What that is, he's not sure.

Not until he focuses outside of his father's body and his eyes fall on the sight before him. A group of Humans are standing in front of him, practically cowering into each other even as they try to stand tall and look unimpressed. He can feel his mouth moving, words spewing from his lips, but he has no idea what they mean- he can't concentrate on them. He just knows that they've done something wrong, something immoral that his father can't sanction.

He turns away from him and heavy steps lead him away, to the TARDIS. He doesn't stop, doesn't look back, as he begins flipping switches and levers. He doesn't give Donna more than a glance as she steps inside.

In that moment, he's afraid of his father. He's afraid of the painfully constricting emotion flourishing within him, but he's far more afraid of the look he saw on Donna's face. She's terrified and angry and he can see that she wants to yell at him, so she does.

"What the hell was that! You can't just leave them there! They'll die!"

He feels the agreement and the guilt rising, but it's squandered by the pure rage that he's capable of.

"Don't you think I don't know that?"

"They don't deserve-"

"They don't deserve? What about all those people they killed? Millions, Donna, just to get to me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Turn them in to some kind of police or other authority, I don't know."

"I am the highest authority."

"You're not all powerful."

"Pretty damn close."

He wants to close his eyes and escape. Wants to leave this monster. These feelings and these thoughts and this understanding of things he can't begin to comprehend. He wants-

Oh, god, where is he?

Oh, right. Home. His bed. He fell asleep.

And suddenly he's bolting up out of bed and running through the house. She's not in her room. Not in the bathroom. Not in the living room or dining room or kitchen or guest bedroom.

She's behind her desk, eyes glued to a screen. This is her study, the one place in the house that he's not supposed to enter. He doesn't care though. Tonight he wants to be with his mum because he's still hasn't quite recovered from that dream- from that painful feeling.

He doesn't care that he surprises her when he pushes on her leg and tries to climb up onto her lap. All he cares about is that she isn't yelling at him and instead she's helping him get comfortable on her lap. All he cares about is that's she stroking his back slowly in that calming manner she's always used since he can remember.

She's talking to him, he's almost sure of that, but he has no idea what's she's saying. Something calming. Asking what's wrong. He just relaxes into her arms and tries to forget why he's there.

"Mummy… can you tell me about the TARDIS?"

"The TARDIS?"

"Yeah, what does it look like?"

"Em, well… the TARDIS is a space ship and time machine- and a lot of a temperamental one at that. But she was lovely nonetheless and she's disguised as a blue police box- mind you, that doesn't really seem like a good disguise but it was when your father went to the sixties and-"

"The chameleon circuit__got stuck!"

"Exactly. Let's see, what else?"

He cuddles further into his mum's entrance, tucking his head into her neck. "When you walk through the door."

"When you walk through the door, the first thing you think, just about every time, is 'bigger on the inside'. And it is much bigger. Walk up the ramp, toss your coat over the coral struts that line the outer circumference of the control room- and all you can see is the time rotor, a massive green cylinder pulsing steadily in the background. And all around it are the array of controls scrounged together from spare bits and pieces. And the jump seats, my favourite place to curl up and watch as he worked on something under the grating."

He's certainly not tired- as his biology and the excess adrenaline in his system can attest to- but he feels as though he could fall asleep with his mum's voice in his ear and her fingers stroking down along his spine. She just keeps talking as his eyelids get heavier, each word bringing back the still vivid picture of his dreams. The TARDIS control room, he's almost positive. Exactly like his mum is describing.

/-/-


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: _Here's a new chapter! Enjoy!

/-/-

The very early hours of the morning are certainly the worst. Absolutely the most boring hours of his life. No one is awake. Not a soul is stirring as they sometimes are late at night or nearing breakfast hour. It's that five hour gap- between one and six- that is so still and so quiet and so unbearably unalive that drives him mad.

He's forced to lay, in his bed, alone with his thoughts while David softly snores through a third of his life.

Sometimes he glances over at David- usually balled up and tangled in his blankets- and he longs for that ability. The one that lets him slow down his mind every night and sleep. He wishes he could stop thinking- stop analyzing and questioning and wondering and daydreaming- and just sleep. To sleep in. To crash at some horrendous hour in the morning and just sleep until the day is nearly gone. He wishes he could snatch naps in the middle of lectures he already knows and study periods he doesn't need.

He wishes a lot of things, but he doesn't really want them to happen.

There is one thing he wishes that he actually wants. He wants to dream. To dream like the others he's had. The ones where he sees his father and the magnificent TARDIS. The ones with his father stopping the bed guys and saving the planet. He likes those dreams because they're so real, so intense, the he wonders if maybe they are.

He's actually tired tonight- like he has been for the past few weeks, and he thinks that, maybe, if he thinks hard enough about the dreams, he might be able to dream about his father again. So he imagines a green cylinder pulsing out an erratic rhythm. He imagines a man in a pin striped suit with a large smile splitting his face. He imagines the red-head Donna who he's really starting to like. He imagines bad guys and aliens and planets in distress. And, eventually, his imaginings fade into darkness and darkness fades into coral struts and a soft green glow.

This is one of his favourite dreams to open his dream eyes to. He usually feels so disoriented by the way his perception slips back and forth, one minute seeing through his own eyes and the next through his father's, but in this dream, he loves it.

He loves first opening his eyes to see the pulsing green light warming his face and its song tickling his ears. He loves taking those first few steps up the ramp, feeling the uneven pressure of the grating floor against his bare feet. He loves most reaching a hand out and caressing the sides of the console as he walks around, looking for his father.

And he always finds him half beneath the TARDIS grating, his upper body beneath the control panel. He just stands there, watching his father work, smiling softly at the mere sight. Because he imagined it so many times as a child, took the word of his mother that he spent hours upon hours doing exactly that and that she spent many of those same hours sitting in the pilot seat just watching him.

But, what he loves most of all, is when his own sight seems to slip away and, for just a moment he exists between the two of them before his perception slips into his father's.

Even better than watching is experiencing. Now suddenly it's him beneath the TARDIS console. It's his sleeves that are rolled up past his elbows and his sonic screwdriver that's between his teeth and his slightly burnt fingertips that are rewiring the circuits above him.

He knows that the thoughts and knowledge and motions aren't his, even if they feel like they are, but he just lets himself dream and lets everything wash over him. He learns, too, pretends as if he's really laying beneath the console with him, his father pointing things out and explaining and teaching him, just as he knows he will some day when he finds a way through the Void.

It's the sound of David pottering around that wakes him, for a change. Six forty-five. Typical of David.

By the time Jon manages to crack open his eyes, David's dressed and searching for shoes and the dull ache has already taken over every synapse in his brain. He groans and rubs his eyes, but otherwise ignores it. He's got the whole thing timed to the second by now.

But the time he's dressed- if he does it promptly- the voice will be a whisper.

By the time breakfast is over, it'll be louder, a casual voice speaking half-nonsense in his head.

By the time his first two classes are over, it'll be shouting at him, nearly yelling equations at him with a ferocity that unnerves him.

By the end of lunch, it'll be whispering again, hoarse from the near hour of yelling.

By the end of dinner, it'll be silent, tired of being ignored and sick of its own non-stop rambling.

It's weird to Jon how he longs for and dreads dinner times. Longs for the quiet inside his own mind. Dreads the end of a companion that understands him.

Jon just focuses on getting his tie straight. It'll be whispering soon.

/-/-

He loves this. The slight burn in his thighs, the vibration of his hearts, the way his lungs gulp in air through the smile on his face. He loves to run. Loves the act of running. Loves the adventure and the thrill of escape.

Even as he laughs out his last breath and glances over his shoulder at the gaining hoard of Trilixian guards, he knows this is just a dream.

The legs are too long and the vision isn't his own and the hand he's reaching out doesn't feel right, especially when his hand finds another and grips tightly. It's Donna, and she's laughing right along with him.

He can feel it, that looming thought that they did something stupid but way too much fun. He loves seeing these moments in his father's life, these little peeks into what a life with his father would be like.

Running. So much of his life is running head first into something and sprinting away from it-

But it's not supposed to involve pain.

Not persistent pain. Over and over again.

A smack. A shove. Then-

"Jon!"

"Wha-?"

Oh, right. The canteen. Lunch time. School. Running from the Trilixian guards was better.

"Oi, mate, it's like you fall asleep at the drop of a hat lately."

"Yeah, well, having trouble sleeping well." His head is throbbing- like normal. He rubs it, easing it slightly.

"It'd help if you actually slept."

"I do," he huffs out his chest, offence crawling across his face before he rubs his hands over it, wiping the expression away.

"Sure, whatever. You hardly ever sleep at night."

"Well, I don't need as much sleep as most people." He really wishes that David would stop talking to him. His head hurts. The voice is starting to get louder. He just wants to finish writing his notes.

"Sure you don't. Explains why you sleep all the time at meals and apparently in class."

"Who told you that?"

David shrugs. "Just heard."

"I'm gonna run to the room."

"You don't have time for that."

He knows that and has no intention of actually heading there. He just needs to get away from David and wake himself up.

He doesn't get any further than standing before a tall figure steps in front of him. He looks up to find himself face to face with Mrs. Boyd, the Headmaster's secretary.

"Mr. Tyler, could you please come with me?"

"Em, of course."

David just shrugs when he looks back at him, but there's no time to talk because Mrs. Boyd has her hand on his back and is leading him away and towards the office.

/-/-

He's not unfamiliar with being in trouble. Growing up under the reign of his overbearing gran, he was caught constantly elbow deep in some mischievous project that had a tendency of leaving one thing working too well and another completely useless.

His mum would never admit that he was the reason they moved out into their own home.

Yeah, he was used to being in the dog house, what he's not used to is sitting outside a door in an uncomfortable chair with a stuffy looking secretary glaring at him over her glasses as he waits for his mum to finish with the headmaster. They keep making gestures towards him, that's why he stopped peering through the window. He prefers just to sit silently on his hands, while keeping occupied by running through all of Einstein's theories.

"Jon?"

He doesn't much care for his headmaster. He's too tall and slouches too much. His hair parts funny and his breath smells horrific. But mostly he doesn't like the way he talks down to the students as if they're all little kids.

"Your mum wants to speak with you in my office. There you go."

It's The Look. The same Look she gave him after he nearly crashed their zeppelin just because he was curious as to how they work. The same Look from the time he made his way into her lab in Torchwood and hacked into the computer. He hates The Look.

"We need to talk."

"Okay. About what? Oh! Did you know that-"

"This is serious, Jonathon."

Uhoh. Full name.

"Kay."

"The headmaster says that you've been falling asleep in class."

"Just three times."

"According to your teachers, it's been more than that. But that's not the point. The point is that you don't sleep. You don't sleep and suddenly now you're sleeping all the time. What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, mum."

"You could be getting sick. What about those headaches?"

"What about them? I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Jon. I'm taking you to see Dr. Jones. I've told her about-"

"Really I'm fine! I'm better than I've ever been. I'm not getting sick, I'm- I'm growing!"

"Growing?"

"Telepathy. You said it yourself, dad's a telepath, which means that I'm one as well. It just kind of started one day at the beginning of the year."

"What started?"

"The voice. The voice started. And the dreams. Actually they don't feel like dreams. They're real, I think! They're brilliant. Just like the stories you tell. Aliens and things."

"Jon, that's not how your father's telepathy works. He has to have physical contact."

"Yeah with other people. Not another Time Lord."

"Yes, that's true. But there aren't any."

"There's dad."

"Jon, your father's in another dimension. You can't be communicating with him."

"How would you know? You said it- Time Lords used to be able to travel through dimensions. They must have been able to communicate."

"Maybe, but, Jon-"

"No! No, really, listen! It's dad! I know it's dad. The dreams, they've got to be his adventures. And the Void, I'm positive that it's him. I can feel him, like this tickling in the back of my mind. All I have to do is reach from him. I'm so close!"

"Jon." How can she not understand? Can't she see how close he is to talking to his dad- to the Doctor. So very close. There could be a way home. If he just knew that he was there. If she would just listen.

"You've got to stop this, whatever it is that you're doing, just stop. Stop pushing, stop listening to this voice. Promise me that."

"But-"

"Promise."

But he can't, not with his dad so close.

"Jon, please, promise me. We need to be certain that this really is telepathy-"

"And not me going mad?"

"Sort of." She doesn't get it. "Promise me you'll stop this until Dr. Jones looks you over."

"Okay. Okay, I promise."

"Thank you."

"It's him. It is. I know it's dad. Gotta be."

"Maybe it is."

"You don't believe me."

"I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is that we don't know much about developing Time Lords. We don't know what this is and to be honest you're scaring me with what you're saying."

"But it's true."

"I know you think that."

It's true. He's telling the truth and she doesn't believe him. She won't listen.

"Come on. Why don't you come home for the weekend. We'll do something fun together."

/-/-


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: _I'll be honest… I sort of forgot that I forgot to post. ::looks ashamed:: So, once again, your patience is rewarded with the next two chapters! Sorry guys. Enjoy!

/-/-

Jy'stem k'rhy w'hybol.

He wishes, right now, that the voice would just stop.

He promised his mum that he would stop pushing. That he would stop trying to hear the voice. But he did stop trying and yet it hasn't stop talking.

Yn s'iar adym anianaeth. A'cemeg arall da'fo diaith.

It makes the quiet hours of the night almost unbearable. When he's trapped alone with just David's snoring and equations running through his mind. Sitting at his desk with pen and paper at hand, letting the words and equations andvisions flow from his hand, is the only thing keeping him sane.

Keeps him sane, that is, until he actually looks down at what he's writing. It's the schematics for a device. A device that… does nothing he's sure.

The more he looks, the more he sees what it is. A communicator. An interdimensional communicator. A communicator capable of getting in touch with his father. One that can pierce through the Void.

He could build it. It would be easy with these blue prints and equations on hand. How easy it would be.

The materials- he could get those. Easy. They're all in the science labs.

He could talk to his father. Could ask him about the telepathy. Could figure out a way with him to open a passage between their worlds properly.

His mum could talk to him. That would make her happy. She needs something like that.

The science lab is locked at this time of night-

Locked doors are easy.

He's never actually left his room this late at night. The school looks so weird. Everything's dark. Everything's so quiet- his footsteps reverberate throughout the halls. He was scared dozens of times that someone would hear him as he broke into the labs and scrounged around for what he needs. More than once he had to drag a chair over to pull things off the shelves. It was actually kind of fun- in reminded him of the times he used to nick all sorts of things from gran's handyman's shed. She was always so cross with him.

And he's sure that David's going to be just as cross when he starts working and wakes him up. He tries to be as quiet as he can, but when the precise stuff is over, all that's left is to assemble the final pieces.

"What are you doing? It's like four in the morning."

"Sorry. Just working. Go back to sleep."

"I'm trying, but it's pretty much impossible with you making all that noise. What could you be doing that's so important?"

"Making something."

"Yeah, whatever. Keep it down will you?"

He's so close. He can feel it. The voice is practically yelling. Yelling and nudging and encouraging him. It'll work. It has to.

What if it doesn't?

His finger stills over the on switch. He shouldn't have made this- it's breaking his promise to his mum that he would stop listening to the voice.

But he can't help it. He needs to know. He needs to try.

The switch glows green, showing that the power up is complete.

Now what? How can he contact his dad? He could be anywhere, any when.

This is going to take a while.

/-/-

"Do you need anything before I go, Ms. Tyler?"

"No, I'm fine, Roger. And how many times do I have to tell you? It's just Rose."

"Of course, ma'am." She smiles at the joke and he smirks back, but honestly she hates the formality of the title 'Ms'. "I'll be out there then."

"Okay. Thanks."

Roger leaves and for a moment Rose just stops. She takes a moment to not think, to not work, to not be Ms. Tyler. She's just Rose.

Just Rose Tyler, mother to the most amazing and unique child ever born.

God, does she miss that child. And she was worried about him having a hard time away from her.

Well, actually, she still is worried about him. Him sleeping all the time is cause for concern on its own, but to top it off with his telepathy theory and his claims of hearing voices. She has no idea what to think. To believe him or blame it on the stress of school and living away from her as to simply a young imagination and youthful desire to see his father.

She needs the Doctor to help her with this part of Jon's development.

There's something about it that makes her nervous. Maybe not nervous.

There's something wrong. Her gut's telling her that she ought to call him, to check up on him. Right now, even. It's much more insistent of a gut feeling than she's accustomed to.

The receiver is to her ear and she has the first three numbers punched in when the door flies open and Roger's body leans inside her office.

"You need to get out here. Something's happening to the Void."

That's all she needs to spring out of his seat and make her way to the Void room. It's her team- her department, her research into a way back.

"What have we got?"

"Some kind of broadcasting signal is disrupting the stability of the Void."

"Is it a message? For us?"

"I can't tell. Looks more like it's coming from our reality."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Can you narrow down in our universe?"

"Trying." It's a frustrating thirty seconds. "Definitely Earth. Narrowing down… England… Perthshire, Scotland… The Noble School."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Steady signal is coming from there."

"Can you block it from here?"

"No. It needs to be shut down manually."

"What are you thinking?"

She looks to Mickey and sighs. "I'm thinking that Jon and I need to have a talk."

"You so sure it's Jon?"

"Who else would be broadcasting across the Void from the Noble School?"

"Good point. But you still never know."

"Come on."

/-/-


	8. Chapter 8

"Seriously though, what makes you think that it's Jon?"

"What other kid here knows about the Void and can go about manipulating it?"

"How should I know? They're geniuses, right? Could just be a class project that went wrong- or even right. Jon doesn't-"

"Just turn on the scanner."

Mickey does what she asks, but not without plenty of groaning first and before long they're wandering the empty halls following the steady rhythm of the device's radiation.

"Right here. Room 231."

She looks at him- raised brow and slight curve of her lips that lets him know just how wrong he was to contradict her.

"Jon's room?"

"Yep."

"Could be his roommate," he muses as she wiggles the handle- unlocked as she figured it would be. The device is just sitting to the left on his desk, humming softly away, red light pulsing on the side.

"See an off switch?"

"This, I think."

The scanner's readings go dead, and so does the humming and pulsing light. There, job done. Threat eliminated. Mickey scopes up the device and instead of placing it in the container meant for it, he rotates it from hand to hand admiring it, smirking.

"And to think, I gave him his first tool set."

"Yes. Thanks. Appreciate it. Put it in the box."

Mickey laughs and shakes his head. But he does what she asks- she knows that he doesn't want her cross with him. She still has to deal with her son.

"Why don't you go back to the car?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll get an update on the Void now that this is off."

"Yeah, thanks."

The secretary looks at her oddly when she marches in, all business and politely demanding her son be called in. She ignores the look, up until she glances down at herself and realizes that the harsh colours and cut of her field "uniform" is a far cry from the soft, not quite business suits they're used to seeing her in.

Mrs. Boyd is quick to get Jon from his Maths class and even the Headmaster gives over her office to allow for a private chat between mother and son. She can't be sure but she thinks that maybe it's because her field attire and attitude reflects a boldness and authority that the Doctor would be proud of.

"Jon, you can't make interdimensional devices without permission!" God, she never would have dreamed that she would use those words on her child back when she lived on the estate.

"But, mum, we make stuff like this all the time in class."

"Yes, but you have Professors and scientists supervising that."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"No buts. Permission first. Especially with the Void- that's dangerous stuff you were messing with."

"But dad said it was okay."

Dad?

She's almost positive that his father would have let him muck around with such a device. If he were there. But he's not.

"Excuse me?"

"Dad. Remember, he talks to me? The telepathy thing."

"He talks to you? And you back to him?"

"Well, it's more one-sided but he told me how to make this."

"That's different. He didn't say you could. He wasn't helping and supervising as you made it." She can't believe that she's rationalizing this.

"Sure he was. In my head."

"Stop that, Jon!" She can't handle him talking like this. Like some schizophrenic or something. "Just stop."

"But it's true."

She knows her son- knows that look. He wants so badly for her to believe him, to understand and accept this telepathy thing. She wants it just to be his imagination mixing with stress. She wants him to be her perfect little boy. She's not really sure what to think.

So she does all she can do- lay down the law. "No more interdimensional devices. No more freelancing devices. And no more listening to this voice. Do you understand me?"

She hates the way his chin dips to his chest and his eyes find the ground and his words come out mumbled. "I was just trying to talk to dad for you."

She wishes she could cry. "Thank you, luv, but it's not going to work, I'm afraid. Just forget it, please." Just forget about searching and hunting and getting so close before failing. Just forget about finding the Doctor so that at least one of them can move on.

"I'll try."

/-/-

It's almost like the voice was listening when his mum declared that he wasn't to listen because it had stopped. For the most part it had. It was quietly murmuring throughout the day- never loud enough to be understand, but just enough to keep Jon interested.

And Jon tries to listen to his mother. Every breakfast when the voice begins, he ignores it. And every lunch he does his homework to keep from listening. And every night he lays awake and tries his best not to slip into another wonderful dream about his father. He tries, but usually he fails.

Because he knows the voice now. He knows that it's his father's mind spilling across the Void, telling him the many things and equations and concepts and planets running through his thoughts. He's comforted by finally knowing- at least on some level- his father.

And that allure is almost impossible to ignore.

Which is why he does something he almost never does: goes against his mother's rules.

He spends his nights now, and sometimes his mornings, and occasionally his whole day, sitting up against the foot of his bed, deep in concentration. He listens as hard as he can to the voice, listening and writing down everything he hears. Sometimes he focuses so hard, he collapses into sleep.

"Don't tell me you've been sitting there all day again?"

"What time is it?"

"Classes are over."

"Then yes. All day."

"What are you doing here all day? What's so important that you're skipping classes and racking up all these demerits?"

"Dw'yn deud dim'rud'ar. Dy'altredig'n deu gain'n dri'n wasgarog'dau."

"What was that?"

"Calculations?"

"You do maths in another language?"

Was he speaking another language?

"Look, quite frankly, you're freaking me out. So I'm gonna go down to the library and study. If you ever want to find your marbles and get out of the room, come find me."

What has gotten into him? He's never skipped a class before. Oh god, he doesn't even want to think about how many demerits he has- his mum is going to kill him.

What's David talking about? Doing maths in another language? He isn't. It's just complicated quantum and temporal physics- guess that sounds a lot like one.

He's not losing it. He's not. If a Human were to stay awake all night like him and have dreams like he does and hear a voice in his head then, yes, they'd be pretty mad. But that's a Human- which David thinks he is, so he makes a fair point. But he's still not and his mum has assured him that the no sleeping thing is a definite Time Lord thing. So why can't the others be? Perfectly possible.

So why does he feel so dizzy all of a sudden? And why is it hard to sit up and why can't he keep his eyes open and why is he suddenly not in his room any more. He's somewhere else.

He's in a dream, he knows he must be because it feels like one, feels like he's walking through someone else's life and seeing through someone else's eyes.

But it's different this time. It's not like the others. More real, and less all at the same. He doesn't feel shrouded in a glass cage, forced to watch from in front of a television screen. He's there, actually, physically there. Well not physically, obviously. But- well, he's not really sure how to explain it.

That's when he finally notices where he is. Well, he's not really sure where he is. He's standing on red grass, atop a hill overlooking- he doesn't know what it is. It's a huge building. A tower, of some kind. A huge, massively beautiful, towering building. The suns are setting- suns?- burning the sky red and orange.

Something's chiming. A wonderful, melodious song that's being carried through the wind to his ears.

The song's upset though when the wind picks up, whipping through his hair and stinging his face. He stumbles a little, turning to find a tornado hurling towards him, knocking him to the ground. It won't stop; just keeps pushing him harder against the ground.

And it hurts. Hurts a lot. In his mind. Make it stop! Stop! But it won't.

"Stop! Please!"

He thinks that it might never stop. That his brain will explode first. That he'll have to bury himself in the red grass-

But then it just stops. The pain disappears and the wind ceases.

There are feet right by his eyes. Feet that connect to legs that eventually make their way up to a face-

His face. His father's face.

"Dad?"

"Excuse me? What are you doing here? A little privacy."

"Sorry. Em, sorry… Where is this?"

"Where? This is- you're in my head. How did you get in here if you don't even know where here is?"

"I, em, I don't know. I just… I…"

"Come on, get up." His hand appears in front of his face. He takes it, just a bit wearily, letting the man pull him to his feet. "Who are you? How old are you?"

"Jonathon Tyler. Everyone calls me Jon, though. I'm seven."

"Well, Jon- Tyler, did you say?" He seems to stop, dead in his tracks, for just a moment, before starting suddenly. "Yes, anyway. So, how did you get here?"

"I was trying to talk to you."

"To me? You know who I am?"

"You're the Doctor, aren't you?"

"Yes. How do you know me?"

Mum said that he never knew. That she was taken from him before she found out. But it hurt a little to hear those words come from his lips.

"I'm your son."

"My son? I… I don't have a son."

"Yes, you do."

"No. I don't. I don't know what you're playing at-"

"My name's Jon Smith Tyler. Named after my dad's false name. Rose Tyler's my mum. I've been told stories all my life about my dad- a Time Lord, traveling through time and space saving the universe."

"Rose… She-"

Finally he seems to stop- stop fighting and stop thinking- and looks at him. Jon just watches as his father takes his first real look at the son he never knew he had.

"You look just like me."

"That's what mum always says. Her miniature Doctor."

"She would say that." Every description of him his mum had ever told him of his father including a gob that didn't end. He didn't really live up to that. "So… your telepathy must have just begun to develop. I'm still surprised you managed this though. That's… pretty much incredible."

Incredible. He doesn't know how long he's been waiting to hear his father say that about him.

"So… I don't know. Tell me about yourself. What about your mum? How's she doing?"

"Mum's great. Well, she misses you. But she's all right."

"Working for Torchwood still?"

"Yeah."

"You? What about school? Sports?"

"Football, a bit. Mickey taught me."

"Of course he did."

"Going to the Noble School. Brilliant place for smart kids and stuff."

"And you're seven?"

"Yeah."

"Wow… I've missed a lot."

"But surely there's a way to get here."

The way his face lights up and an idea clicks in his mind and his hands slap together in an awkward gesture creates the exact picture that he has imagined for all these years.

"Of course there is. Now there is. It's simple, really, we just need-"

"You're fading."

"Yes, this is taking a lot of effort and energy on your part. Your mind's not used to this. Just hold on for a second- I need to explain."

It feels sort of lost in translation. Words and images just appearing in his mind. Some he understands, some he doesn't. His father's image is fading in and out; the scenery had long since disappeared into whiteness. His head is throbbing- all he can do to control the pain is stare right at him, willing his mind to absorb what he needs to know.

And then it's gone.

He's back in his room, staring at the wall, back slumped against the bed.

"Jon. I heard you yelling? What-?"

"Mum! I talked to him!" He springs to his feet- it doesn't matter that the room is spinning. "I talked to him. I can get us back!"

"Talked to whom?"

"Dad!"

Then the world went black.

/-/-

_Author's Note:_ They finally meet! Didn't mean to ignore some questions about why the Doctor hasn't noticed Jon, but my thought was that Jon's telepathy was too weak (through the Void and due to his youth) that the Doctor just brushed it off and static. He didn't really notice him until he became strong enough to get into his unconscious. At least that's my opinion...


	9. Chapter 9

"Doctor! Doctor! Are you all right! Doctor!"

"Donna."

"Are you trying to scare the crap out of me, alien boy?!" Her hand whacks him hard across the shoulder and his faint "ow" goes completely unnoticed by her as she continues, "You just snapped into a trance. What happened? What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong. Actually, it's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!" He pauses, just long enough to let a grin slide over his face. "Donna, I'm a dad."

"You're a what?"

"A dad. I have a son! A son, Donna! Jonathon Smith Tyler."

"Rose's son?"

"Yeah!"

"But how- what?"

"My absolutely brilliant son figured out how to use his blossoming telepathic skills to contact me."

"You have a son?"

"I have a son! And-" If it was at all possible, he seemed even happier, even more alive. "I can get them back."

"You can get Rose. Really? How?"

"Simple. Time Lord on this side of the Void, Time Lord on that side of the Void, both working to make the same device which, when activated, will open a stable hole connecting the two universes. Easy-peasy."

"That's it? Just two little devices?"

"Well- and a lot of calculation. He should be able to figure it out. He's seven- yeah. Be a bit bumpy, I should think-"

"We're traveling through this Void thing with a seven year old controlling the other side?"

"Oi! Half-Time Lord. He can handle it."

"Seven?"

"Quiet down, will ya. I've got to focus."

"I'll tell you what you've gotta-"

/-/-

His hearts are racing and his head is spinning and he feels suddenly like he'll never be able to catch his breath.

He notices a beeping then. It's speeding. One monotone note racing out of control to keep up with… something.

Footsteps are there too. One muffles set of soft-soled shoes pacing around the bed. Mickey's shoes!

Mickey- that means he's-

He finally opens his eyes and takes in the world around him. Starch white ceiling. Bright light. Itchy blanket. Two figures rushing towards him.

"Mum? Mickey? What happened? Where am I?"

"You're at Torchwood, Jon. You were delusional and then just passed out-"

"Delusional? No!" She thinks he's sick, that's why he talks to dad. But he's not sick and he's not making it up. "I really talked to dad. I told you it was his voice I've been hearing and I was right."

"Hey, kid. I know you really want to believe that, but the fact is you can't talk to him and there's no way to get back to him. He said it himself- I was there."

"No-" He loves his Uncle Mickey, but he's wrong. Completely wrong. "He said there's a way. Mum-?" He needs her to believe him- if there's no one else in the world who understands, as long as she believes him, it doesn't matter.

Why won't she even look at him? "Mum?"

"Mickey's right, hon, we can't go back."

"But-"

"We heard he was awake! Oh, darling, you gave us one huge scare. How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Oh, those sheets are awful! Pete, what kind of hospital are you running here?"

"Gran- I can't breathe."

Her arms relax from her crushing hug and she finally leans away to take him in. He smiles at her because she's his gran and maybe she'll listen to him. Maybe she'll believe him.

"I saw him, gran! I spoke to him and he's amazing- just like you and mum always said! And I really do look just like him- he even said so! And he said I was incredible!"

"Who, darling?"

"Dad."

"The Doctor?" She looks to his mum and with just one glance. Jon knows that she's been turned away from him.

"It's true!" he pleads before anyone else can have a chance to say he's wrong. "It's true and he told me exactly how to open the Void so he can get here. I can do it! I can and don't think I need your permission to try!"

"Hang on. Calm down." His granddad is never going to believe him. He didn't really know his dad. He doesn't know what he's capable of. "No one's building anything just yet. And you're not doing anything but laying here and resting until the doctors figure out what happened. Okay?"

"But grandad-"

"Dad, can we talk outside?" Maybe his mum's going to explain. Maybe she'll tell him just how extraordinary the Doctor is and how it really is possible for him to have been communicating with his dad. Maybe-

"Yeah, we can."

"We'll be right back, Jon, okay?"

She kisses his forehead just as she goes to say "kay" and he knows almost immediately that she still doesn't believe him.

/-/-

"He really believes that he's spoken to his father?"

The door is hardly closed when the words come spilling out of Pete's mouth and she wants to shush him but doesn't. "Yes, he does. And the problem is-" she doesn't really want to admit it but she has to, "I'm inclined to believe him."

"Rose-"

She shakes her head, halting the comment handing on Pete's tongue. "I know the Doctor and I know my son. They're both unbelievably incredible. It's possible that he can do this."

"And it's possible that he can't."

"Where's the harm in letting him try? Maybe he fails and it hurts him but he'll accept what we're saying."

"And maybe he can't and messes with the Void- again."

"Pete-"

"That was because of this voice too. Rose, you're too close to this to think clearly. You want so badly to believe your son and see the Doctor again- which you have every right to- but you can see what might happen. He could be wrong and hurt himself, someone else, or destabilize the Void. Or-we've got to admit the possibility that there's an outside force at work. What if some hostile alien is using him? What if what he thinks will open a way for the Doctor to come through will actually open a way for an alien armada? We don't know- and we can't take the risk."

Everything's silent once his words stop echoing in her ears. All she can do is stare at Pete. He's right- to some practical extreme, he's completely right. But she can't accept that. She can't accept that her son is being manipulated into believing he spoke to his father.

She needs to believe that he did.

So she looks to Mickey. He traveled with them. He knew the Doctor. He's got to understand.

But he doesn't. She can see that in his expression. He's worked for Torchwood for too long. "I'm sorry, Rose, but Pete's got a point. We can't take the risk."

"I'll go talk to him."

She stops Pete before his hand touches the doorknob and glares daggers at him. "No, I will."

"Okay." He takes the hint and nudges Mickey to let him know to leave with him.

She's left there, alone with her thoughts and her fears and an unusually silent Jackie crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

"What do I say to him, Mum?"

"I don't know."

"Do you believe him? Do you think it's really the Doctor?"

"I think," she starts as she pushes off the wall and steps closer, "that the Doctor did so many things I would never have dreamed possible and I think that that child of yours has the same quality about him. I don't think like Pete does and I don't know what he's going about consequences but I know that that kid in there needs to at least try."

That's all her mum has to stay. She gives one look to the door before following the path. Pete and Mickey took, leaving Rose there with a sinking stomach and no idea what to do.

/-/-


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: _Sorry for the wait. Final's are brain numbing… Hope it was worth the wait!

/-/-

Nutter. Alien. Losing it. Mental. Off the deep end.

That's what they're saying about him, he knows it. Granddad's never going to believe him. And never in a million years will he let him build something that's going to mess with the Void. Never.

He doesn't know about his mum anymore. Before she was worried but he knew that she trusted him. But now… now he was a nutter.

The door creaked slowly open and Jon turns onto his side, burying his face into the pillow. It's going to be a doctor, he's sure of it. One with a notepad full of questions designed to assess his mental stability.

They'll lock him up for sure.

"Jon?"

Mum? He spins onto his back and smiles up at her. She's going to get him out of there, get him somewhere with the proper tools to get to his father. He just knows it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Or maybe not.

"Good. That's good." He watches as she walks slowly to the side of his bed, rubbing her thumb along her finger as she watches the ground. She's got something to talk about- a decision to be made- but he has no idea what it might be, so he waits for her to sink onto the bed might be, so he waits for her to sink onto the bed beside him and run her hand up and down his arm.

"Your granddad won't let you build whatever it is-"

"A transdimensional vortex stabilizer."

"Yeah, that."

"Why not? I really do know how to do it! The Void won't destabilize or anything. It'll work just fine."

"I know you believe that, luv, but things do go wrong and he's got a lot to think about."

"But what about dad? He's waiting on me! I need to do this."

"You can't be positive that it is dad-"

"It is." He wills every ounce of sincerity and determination into his eyes; wills them to look like what he always imagined a storm in the Doctor's eyes would look like.

It seems to work as his expression makes her pause, makes her draw in a breath and shut her eyes. She just needs one word to make her break.

"Please."

That's all it takes to reveal his mum's stormy eyes and before he knows it he's stumbling into his clothes and his mum is taking his hand and scurrying down the hall with him, taking him down hallways and elevators he didn't even know existed.

"Whoa!" It's a mechanical paradise. Every tool and every computer and everything he could even dream of reading right there in one huge lab.

"Welcome to my lab, Jon."

"This is yours."

"Yep. And you're really not supposed to be down here doing so-"

"Hurry up. Gotcha."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he takes in every item around him, his mind quickly calculating what exactly he needs.

And then he's flying, his little legs moving him from shelf to shelf to lab benches, piling anything he needs in the middle of the room while his mum just watches in bemusement from the door.

"Feels like being with the Doctor again."

"You think?"

"Definitely."

He gets the basic components together with his mum's help and just over an hour later all that's left is the hard bits. That's also when he notices his mum's face sour. He looks up to see the security camera's feed playing over her computer screen showing his granddad at the head of a small security patrol.

"Crap. They're going to stop us."

"But I'm almost done. Can't you lock the door?"

"Pete'll be able to get in."

"Hang on."

It's one of those things that he doesn't know how he knows- he just does somehow and he goes with it, lets the knowledge fills his mind and drips out of his fingers. The door's hotwired- nearly impossible to get through but he's sure they'll eventually manage."

So he goes back to his work, placing wires and burning his fingers to type in equations as fast as he can, completely ignoring the commotion outside the door. He even works through the sound of his granddad's voice as it comes over the intercom.

"Rose, you know better than to do this. You know I love Jon and I know how brilliant he is, but I'm not sure at all that this is a good idea. What if something goes wrong? What then, Rose?"

His mum's looking at him and he takes the moment to stop working and look up at her. She's thinking over what his granddad said. Considers the possibilities. He knows she has her answer when her face becomes set. "I know Jon and I know the Doctor. This is going to work, Pete."

That's all he needs to hear to have the courage to finish his work.

They've got a laser working on the door. Just focus, he tells himself, just a few more numbers left…

The door is buckling…

Almost done…

Sparks fly from the door-

Green! Power up's finished!

"It's finished!"

And so are they. Just as Jon's small fingers hit the switch, the metal door rattles against the ground and five armed men are stepping on it, making their way into the room.

His granddad pushes through them, his hands out and his eyes pleading. "Please, stop. This isn't-"

"It's already done, Pete."

"What?"

"I just finished it." Even as his granddad tries to stop him, he still beams up at him, waiting for some sign of approval.

But he gets none, just a pale face and a rushed signal to call up to the Void room. The room is silent, tension breathing down their necks, until the man at the phone announces, "There were slight fluctuations that started two minutes ago and have been steadily growing."

"Can they do anything to stabilize it?"

"They're trying, sir, but nothing is working. Whatever's causing it is a constant power source."

"Is anything coming through."

"Not yet."

"He's coming." The room is looking at him when he raises his eyes to find his granddad's. A grin explodes over his face and he jumps up, pounding his fists in excitement. "He's coming! I can feel him. We need- we need to be somewhere. I don't know where but… a beach?"

"Norway."

There's shock and fear and love and anger and so many exhausting emotions in his mum's eyes that he can hardly believe they match her calm voice.

"Bad Wolf Bay, in Norway. That's got to be where the breach will come out. Dad… please."

His nod is curt and Jon knows that the only reason they're about to travel to a beach in Norway after he built a device that destabilized the Void is because Pete Tyler loves his daughter too much to deny her this. Or deny him it.

/-/-

It's not what he expected for the first place he physically meets his father, not this gorgeously serene and frozen beach. But, then again, he doesn't know what he expected.

He almost expected red grass and an orange sky and trees that chime in the wind. He expected a blue box standing there waiting for him and a man- a tall, lanky body- to be leaning against it. He expected to be lifted up and spun around and to jump into the waiting ship and be shown to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

All he got was sand and sea air circling his body. An empty beach that was wet from the falling tide and made his shoes stick as he made awkward stop and go sprints and here and there around rock formations as he tries to find his father.

He knows that he's somewhere. Somewhere on that beach. He can feel it. Can feel that gentle caress of his father's mind in his. He can feel the excitement and joy and relief at making it through. He knows that it worked; he just can't find him…

"Jon! Jon, calm down. Come back over here."

"I've got to find him!"

"Jon, he's not here. I was wrong- it was just a guess."

"No, he's coming here. I know he is. He's somewhere around-"

And then he hears it. The most beautiful noise in the universe- the sound of the universe itself. And he runs for it, a full out sprint towards the noise because he knows- just knows instinctively that it's him. That he's coming- that he's right there.

/-/-

"Well?"

"Well?"

"Are we there?"

"Oh, right." They're there. He knows exactly where they are. But he checks anyway. Presses a few buttons and checks their locations, the date, and the air quality. "Yep. Here. Definitely made it."

"Great! Then what are you waiting for? Get out there!"

He smiles, more for Donna than out of excitement. He takes a step forward, curls his fingers around the railing- and comes to a complete stop-

"What? What's wrong?"

"What it- I mean… it's been a long time for Rose. What if… what if she has someone else? She has a family, house, job… life here. I can't just come in and whisk them both away from that."

"Hello, Martian boy, you do that all the time."

"Yeah, but this is different. This is-"

"Rose and your son and now you're scared."

"Well… yeah. What if he doesn't like me? What if Rose doesn't want to be with me anymore?"

"Doctor, if Rose feels even the tiniest fraction for you of what you feel for her, then there's no way she isn't out there impatiently waiting for you to get your alien butt out there!" She pauses, and then says, "And, as weird as this is to say, I would die to have someone like you as a dad. Who wouldn't want a time traveling alien as a dad?"

"I wouldn't."

"That's because you weren't born on Earth. He'll love you. Trust me. Now get out there!"

With those final comforting words, Donna gives him a good shove towards the door. He stumbles forward then turns and smiles- really smiles at her- before he opens the TARDIS door-

And there she is. All blonde hair and big hazel eyes and pink skin and perfect lips and tears sliding over a disbelieving grin.

And then he was running for her, pulling her against him and swinging her around and smelling a new scent of shampoo in the air around her and tasting the dip in her neck that assured him that she still tasted of Rose and Time.

He lips are on his and his hands are on her back and hers are tangled through his hair and he almost forgets to breathe as he thrusts his tongue against hers. He almost forgot how good it feels to hold her like this.

She breaks away from him and he cups her cheek and rests his forehead against hers as he tries to wipe away her tears with his thumbs but it's a useless attempt because more just keep spilling over.

Now that he's looking at her, he can see the effects of their time away. Less make-up, more professional clothes, slightly shorter hair- actually it's redder than he remembers. But it's still his Rose- still the same dark green eyes shining up at him.

"Hello."

"Hi."

"I, em… so we have a son?"

"Jon, yeah. I, em, should have told you, that day on the- this beach, but I just couldn't."

"So you don't have a brother or sister then?"

"No… no, I lied."

"Figured." It's silent, for just a moment, as he tries to tell her with his eyes and gentle caress over her face that he understands why she did it. "Speaking of things not said that day. What I started to say before I was so rudely interrupted was. Rose Tyler, I-"

"Mum! This is WAY cooler than I ever imagined. It's huge in here!"

He wants to be angry and sigh in frustration, but all he can do is laugh because Rose s laughing and there's his son- in person- poking his wind tossed head out of the TARDIS door with the goofiest grin plastered on his face.

And just like that he remembers how good it feels to laugh and to be happy.

/-/-

There he is. His father. Right there. Standing right before the TARDIS. His TARDIS. And it really is just a blue box- it even says Police Box!

He's wonderful. Brilliant! He really wears a brown suit and converse trainers and he really is tall and his hair really is unruly.

It's almost surreal- almost like one of those movies he's seen on the telly- when they start to run for each other, his mum's strides short and rapid and his father's long and even. They're clinging to each other and he would say that it's really cute and wonderful if they weren't suddenly snogging each other.

As much as he wants to pull on his father's sleeve and get his attention. To say hello and talk and tell him all he knows and all he's learned and all he's accomplished, he thinks better of it. Besides, they're quite distracted- they're not going to notice anything but each other for a while.

He's much more intrigued by door hanging opened, just begging for him to step through it and explore.

"Whoa!"

"Yeah, bigger on the inside. Takes a bit to get used to, that one."

"Well, yeah that's cool and all, but I was actually talking about the Time Rotor. Look at that!"

"Oh, yeah. That's exactly what I thought was cool when I was six."

"I'm seven."

"Sorry. I'm Donna, by the way."

He looks at her for real for the first time since he came in. She's leaning up against the console, her pale regal face lit up by the green light coming from the Time Rotor. He knows that face; he's seen it dozens of times in his dreams. His father's friend. The one who kept him sane. He likes her already.

"I'm Jon."

"The Doctor's son? Blimey, you do look just like him."

"Thanks," he beams because he likes being compared to his father.

"Why aren't you out there meeting your dad?" He shrugs, then grimaces when he remembers the sight of his mum and dad snogging. "I take it, the two of them are going at it out there? Well they have every right to, I suppose."

"Still gross."

"You'll grow into it."

"Hope not."

"You're a cute little bugger- unfortunately you're probably just like your dad."

His hands on his hips, his chest puffed out and his chin sticking out, he tries to look offended and says, "And what's wrong with that?" But Donna just chuckles at him.

"Absolutely nothing. Just means that you're going to be a handful."

"You sound like gran."

"Good thing or bad thing?"

He just shrugs before he decides that he has so much he wants to know and wants to ask and all of that requires his father's attention. So he spins around and pushes the door open just enough to poke his head out and say, "Mum, this is way cooler than I ever imagined! It's huge in here!"

That's enough to grab their attention and get them chuckling at him but that's not all he wants.

"Come 'ere."

That was it. What he was waiting for. That open armed, huge smile acceptance.

Jon runs for him- his father. The man he's waited his entire life to meet.

Arms engulf him and his feet are up off the ground and he doesn't bother to stop the giggles flying off his tongue.

/-/-


	11. Chapter 11

Hey guys! I just wanted to say thank-you for all the lovely reviews. I'm afraid that I haven't been as on top of responding to reviews or posting on time because of school, but thanks for bearing with me. I'd also like to thank my friend Saph for beta-ing everything.

This is the last chapter, but I've also posted the M-Rated version of the middle bit (I just didn't want to have to change the rating) so you'll be able to find that under the title "Interlude". There's also at least two more short stories to be posted under this series. I'm sure how much further it'll go after that.

Thanks! Enjoy!

/-/-

He just stands there and smiles. Smiles because it feels so bloody good to let those muscles flex themselves for once, and not force them into action.

It hasn't been much more than two hours since he threw open the door and found them there- his Rose and his son, his gorgeous son. His eight year old son that already has eight years of life that he'll never know about; and yet, despite all that, he already he feels as if he knows so much about this child. This little boy- his son.

He already knows that his son is a ball of energy, one that can be hurled about, focused with precise accuracy at one point or let loose to bounce off every surface it can find. He expends every breath of air spurting out insights and questions, letting his intellect and curiosity go mad manipulating a language not complex enough for his thoughts with stunning perfection.

He feels her presence, her soft footsteps and the stir in the air behind him. He loves the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist and her forehead nudging his back. He smiles, even wider than he already has been, before regretfully moving her hands away and pulling her around to stand next to him. She's smiling at their son- their son… he still can't believe he has a son- even as she leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "You've raised a great kid."

"Your genes helped a lot."

"Must have been hard- raising an alien baby on your own."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I've missed you so much." She reaches up to kiss his neck and he can't help but feel his chest lighten at the familiarity of the action. "Do you think he'd be upset if I asked Donna to give him the grand tour?"

"If I didn't know better, Doctor, I'd say that you're trying to get me alone with you."

"No, hardly. I just don't want Jon to see what I want to do with you. Or Donna for that matter."

She smirks, but even as amusement quirks her brows, her pupils darken with desire. "I don't think Jon'll mind us ditching him, but Donna might."

"Nah… you think? Hey, Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could show Jon around the place?"

"I thought you'd want-" She looks over at them as she speaks and a soft, knowing smile covers her face when she sees them standing, his arm around her waist and her head resting in his shoulder. "Right. Hey, Jon? You want to check out the rest of the TARDIS?"

"Yeah!" Jon's hopping up and rushing for the door, already having to stop and wait for Donna to catch up with him, before he notices that they're not moving. "Mum, Dad, you coming?"

"We'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Okay," he barely shrugs in response before he's off again.

Donna follows him but pauses in the doorway, leaning back to look over at them. "You owe me," she says to the Doctor and the two of them laugh, amusement tumbling off their lips.

As soon as they're alone, Rose turns out of his arms to be facing him. He watches the tips of her fingers brush over the soft silk of his tie, tugging at it, playing with it like she hadn't done for such a long time.

"I've missed doing this." Her voice is glowing when she finds his eyes. All he can do is study her face- study this face that he's missed for so long, the one he's seen in his dreams, the one that has been denied him for so long. She seems to be doing the same- studying this tenth face of his, remembering every detail she can find with her eyes. Soft, delicate fingers brush back hair from his eyes and slowly trail down his cheek. "Missing something," she mutters. His brows scrunch and she smiles, leaving him in wonder even as her fingers dig their way through his pockets. He smiles when he sees his glasses pinched between her fingers. She unfolds them and he holds still as she puts them on him. "Much better."

He brushes a few stray locks behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in, lips finding hers in a soft, sweet kiss. "I've really missed you," he says against her lips, forehead resting against hers.

"I know. Me too."

He's not prepared for her to take his face between her hands and pull him to her. Her kiss is deep and rushed- tongue and teeth clashing against each other- and quickly he catches up. And when they finally are able to break away from each other, even he is struggling to catch his breath, but she's not ready stop. Her hands are moving into his hair and her lips are against his again. He matches her motions, tongue against tongue, his hands trailing down her back, holding her tighter, pulling her to him.

His hands find her hips, pushing away the fabric, desperate to find skin. Hers do the same, running over his chest and under his jacket lapels.

His lips are on her jaw, trailing wet, burning kisses down her neck, nipping at the base of her neck. His hands are brushing over skin, trailing over her back, and suddenly she whimpers and grabs his hands.

He stops kissing her, too confused in his heat of passion to do anything more than look at her. She kisses him, kisses away the fear of rejection, just before bringing his hands to her forehead. He doesn't have to pause to consider her request; he simply beams at her and eases himself into her mind. It's been a while for her, long enough for the sensation to become uncomfortable, but he doesn't see that in her face. He sees only the delight that his presence has brought her in the way her eyes fall closed and her lips part in a gasp.

He kisses her open lips and inches his tongue inside her mouth while his hand massages her neck and his other finds skin beneath her shirt. He sucks at her neck again and she's moaning into his ear, overwhelmed by him.

"We should probably move this to your room."

"Right. Yeah… Where is it?"

She laughs and pushes him gently away. Her fingers brush over his, lacing them together, before pulling him along.

/-/-

She's gorgeous when she sleeps. He's always loved to see her like this- hair tousled, blonde strands taking over the pillow, soft snores keep the silence at bay.

Rassilon, he's missed her.

He's trying to stay as quiet as he can as he moves about the room. With one leg through his trouser leg, he trips when he attempts to get the second through; she barely stirs, just shifts, sighs, and returns to dreamland. He smiles at the amount of wonderfully smooth skin she's exposed to him now that the blanket has slid off her back.

Buttoning his fly as he walks, he goes over to her. With one hand on either side of her body, he grabs the blanket and covers her just before leaning down and kissing the base of her neck and whispering, "You're beautiful," in her ear.

The door rattling catches his attention. He straightens and smiles when he recognizes the soft tickling in his mind.

Pulling the door in, just enough so that he can see out, he finds Donna and Jon- Donna whispering a plea to Jon to leave his parents alone for the night and Jon pouting his lip in the exact same way that Rose does when she wants something.

"It's okay, Donna." She jumps at his voice but not enough to keep her from hiding it. She looks over at him and he knows that she's trying to apologize, but the Doctor's attention is on the way his son's eyes have lit up and a smile is starting to form on his lips.

"Hey, you know what I haven't showed you yet?"

"What!?"

"Well, a lot of things really, but mainly the spatial flux sequencer."

"What does that do?"

"Well I'll show you." He's about to step out into the hall when he realizes where Donna's eyes have strayed to. Rose is the only person to ever see him so exposed; he can feel his whole body blushing beneath her gaze. "After I put on a shirt."

His rumpled maroon T-shirt is laying close by and he throws it over his head before stepping into the hall and closing the door tightly behind him. Donna's still staring but he ignores her and looks down at Jon. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh. Where's mum?"

"She's sleeping."

"Yeah, she does that a lot."

"Humans," the Doctor shrugs and casts a smile over at Donna.

"Speaking of Humans needing their sleep, this Human has gone long enough without any. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Donna!"

"Night. And thank you," he says softly to her.

"It was no problem. Your son's a treat."

He smiles at the comment as she walks down the hall to her room. "Right!" His hands slap together, "Spatial flux sequencers. Come on!"

/-/-

It feels more like a dream. Like a wonderful dream she's simply floating through. She feels warm and loved and perfectly content to lay there for hours wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets with him holding her-

And that's when the dream shatters around her. The only warmth pressing against her back is the blanket she's wrapped in. The only arms holding her are her own.

She keeps her eyes shut tight, keeps her mind focused on the warmth and perfectness of her dream. Because that's all it was: a dream. A glorious dream that involved her son returning her to her Doctor and the two men of her life- with their unbelievably similar characteristics- babbling about space and time.

But it was so believable. So vivid that even now she can still smell him. His scent is invading her nostrils with every breath.

She snaps opened her eyes. Waves of terror and relief and hope crash over her. She's in his room, surrounded by everything him, surrounded by the lull of the TARDIS. She's home. And it's not a dream; not her mind playing tricks on her in the early morning fog of dreams meeting reality.

No, this is real. This is permanent and here. Except minus him. He should be here, holding her, but he never could figure out which nights she wanted him to stay and which she wouldn't be bothered if he left. Typical Doctor.

But she finds herself smiling, despite his absence, as she stretches and reawakens her achy muscles. As much as she wishes she had awakened in his arms or opened her eyes to find him laying beside her with a book propped open on his chest or even some piece of alien technology that he was mucking about with, she's content to know that this is real and she's home and he's just outside those doors.

He's in one of three places, almost certainly. Either the kitchen fixing her breakfast, knowing that he's more likely to woo her away from bed early with the allure of food, in the library searching for another book to occupy his hours in bed with her, or in the control room- the most likely of places this time.

She kicks away the blankets and tries to roll herself out of bed. God, is she sore! It's been far too long.

She wishes that she had something a little more comfortable than what she had been wearing yesterday, but she puts the wrinkled clothes on anyway and heads for the door.

It's like riding a bike- no matter how confusing or complicated the TARDIS's corridors might be, she finds her way easily, her feet having never forgotten the path.

She doesn't see a manic, tall, dark haired Time Lord when she first pauses in the doorway of the control room. But, after a second look, she does see two pairs of white converse trainers, one tiny in comparison to the other, attached to a pair of long, awkwardly folded legs and one pair of skinny twigs of legs that hit a growth spurt a little too soon.

She can't hear the words that are being exchanged between the two, just the sounds of tools against tools and wires sparking- the sounds of the Doctor working.

She smiles- she can't help it, not with this wonderful ball of contentment swelling in her chest- as she watches the two men in her life work on their magnificent time ship.


End file.
